


Cutting Pathways

by goresque



Series: Taken In Hand [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Fingering, BDSM, Bodily Fluids, Cunnilingus, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Humiliation, Kink Negotiation, Multiple Orgasms, Other, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Sexual Roleplay, Snowballing, Spanking, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:33:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25735108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goresque/pseuds/goresque
Summary: Rodimus brings up a scene he’s been thinking about for a while. His and Megatron’s sexual relationship reach new depths.
Relationships: Megatron/Rodimus | Rodimus Prime
Series: Taken In Hand [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1571881
Comments: 10
Kudos: 83





	Cutting Pathways

**Author's Note:**

> Please enjoy two sluts having fun
> 
> Timeline: This takes place before Optimus enters the world of kink. 
> 
> The term ‘Daddy’ is used as a title depicting a position of power in a consensual kink dynamic, with the intent of being a caregiver for their submissive. There is not just one way to be a dominant and titles depend on someone’s preferences. Titles can imply overall themes of what they entail, but there are many different ways to be a Daddy or a Master. If you take anything away from this fic let it be that communication is important and all kink should be regarded with risk awareness!

Megatron considered himself fairly knowledgeable concerning interfacing. He was well versed, decavorns of experience with multiple lovers, at least marginal dabbling in nearly every subset of kink or fetish here and there. He was a regular- and veteran- at  _ Visages _ for a reason.

However, he really had no inkling how to react when Rodimus brought human interfacing habits to their berth. 

“What does it even mean?” Megatron queried, brow furrowing as he watched the pornographic vid that Rodimus had offered as an example. The human curses were one thing, the words Rodimus used to refer to his array were another. Those words could be arousing in the taboo that circled them, especially for former Decepticons. This felt different.

“I think it's supposed to translate into progenator,” Rodimus offered. He was vibrating with an aroused anxiety, curious if Megatron would be up for it. “But-” he cut in before his dom could continue with that disgusted look on his faceplate, “It's supposed to be like… symbolic? Like you're not  _ really _ my sire, you're just like… I dunno, it's an alternative to sir or master. It means something different though, like a kind of power play. You take care of me and stuff even if I’m bad, and you punish me because it’s good for me, instead of because you’re angry.”

Megatron seemed pacified by the answer, though he still arched an optical ridge. Humans did have an odd way of expressing themselves. Rodimus always did like being taken care of though, and this was a prime opportunity for them to flesh out their relationship as dominant and submissive. “And so you would like me to dominate you as you call me ‘Daddy’ then?”

“Yup.”

“And you would like me to act as a… structural figure? To care for your best interests, even if you resist?”

“You catch on quick.” Rodimus wiggled into place on the berth. He was shivering with barely contained excitement and charge crackling off his plating. He vents were already opened up, hot air expelled with gentle  _ whirrrrs _ that pulsed around the room. “Please, Daddy?”

“You're a lewd thing,” Megatron rumbled, already slipping into his role. He couldn't say he necessarily understood, but he knew that Rodimus had always thrived under the command of someone nurturing, who had a steady and firm hand on control. Someone who came across as caring and patronly even when they were dealing out discipline. Megatron never really fit that bill; it was why they so often stuck to the usual “big bad Decepticon” roleplay over most others. He supposed there was nothing wrong with trying something new. 

“Tell me your words.” Megatron caught Rodimus’ chin to keep eye contact. “This is new and I want you to be honest with me. No pushing your boundaries today.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Rodimus said with a nod. There was a twinkle in his optics that had Megatron revving his engine. “Green to tell you I’m having a good time and I want to keep going. Yellow if I’m getting close to my limit or if I need a break. Red if I need to stop or I need help.”

“Good boy,” Megatron crooned, rewarding Rodimus with a kiss against his cheek. He relaxed then, servos crawling over Rodimus’ frame as he geared himself up for his role. “Everything about you is asking for a spanking. This gaudy paint, that naughty spoiler… Whirl boasts you like having it pulled on. Whorish thing, spreading your legs for others.”

“Maybe if you'd paid more attention to me then I wouldn't be looking for it from others,” Rodimus hummed, servos trailing down his chest and resting on his thighs. “Whirl’s got his perks.”

“Whirl also has a big mouth.”

“Are you gonna kiss an’ tell, Daddy?” Rodimus kisses along the line of Megatron’s jaw, digits curling over his cheek to entice him. The soft folds of Rodimus’ lips swore promises that Megatron would be cashing in on in short order. “I hope not. There's a lot I want to be just between you and me.”

Megatron grunted, one hand meeting Rodimus’s fingers along his faceplate and the other sneaking around to grip his spoiler. He gave it a taut yank, delighting in the mewl it ignited from Rodimus. “Now, now…” Megatron paused, wondering exactly what the human title for Rodimus was in their role play. He waited, looking to his lover for an answer, which thankfully Rodimus provided,

“Son.” Rodimus wiggled under the intense gaze, squirming as Megatron’s hand wandered. “Or boy?”

“Boy,” Megatron said, tasting the word on his glossa. He preferred that one, even if the concept of human gender left a bad taste in his mouth. It sounded better than the other one. “If you wanted a spanking so bad you didn't need to act out. I'd have given it to you.”

“S’better when you're mad.” Rodimus rolled his hips down against Megatron’s knee, groaning at the slightest pressure along his interface panel. Rodimus was one who liked to push boundaries and encourage punishment. “Please, Daddy? I've been naughty.”

Well, who was Megatron to disappoint?

“You have.” Megatron pulled Rodimus over his lap by an arm, supporting his leverage by gripping the twitching spoiler. “Slutting around behind my back will not gain you the attention you want.” Megatron tsked and pinched the spoiler in his grip. “Have you been acting out from a desire to be disciplined?”

Rodimus trembled beneath his voice. He leaned back into the hand that held his spoiler, moaning soft against the berth as he rested his helm there. He relaxed into the position, his aft up and hips swaying. “I just want your attention, Daddy. You always send Magnus after me…”

“And he doesn't give you what you  _ really _ want, does he?” Megatron rubbed the tender metal of Rodimus’ behind, priming him for what was to come. “No spankings from Magnus, only lectures and time-outs. You require more… physical means of discipline.”

About to play innocent and ask what Megatron meant, Rodimus gave a wordless yell of surprise as a hand came down over his aft. He pushed back onto his knees, about to sit up straight when the other shoved him back down across his knees. “Hey-”

“Sit down, boy.” Megatron had his palm rubbing the warm plates of his lover’s aft, playing with the tingling static of stray charge. His fingers traced one seam along Rodimus’s interface panel, giving it a gentle slap.

An undignified squeal tumbled from Rodimus’s dermas as his modesty panel was slapped. To his embarrassment, it snapped open, sliding aside as if he were a cheap buymech. “Oh,  _ fuck _ -”

“Language.” Megatron smacked the newly bared valve, one digit already sliding between the lips there. No attention was paid to the aching spike hanging between them. He didn't penetrate the soft folds too soon, not before he pinched the delicate protoflesh. Megatron fondled Rodimus with great delight at each and every noise he produced. “You're quite a desperate thing, boy.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Rodimus mewled, his vents flushing steam so hot he worried his slats would melt. He pushed his aft up into the hand above him, his own fingers curling around Megatron’s thigh. “Please touch me, Daddy, I'm so  _ wet-” _

“Tell me why you're wet.” Megatron gave Rodimus another smack across his aft plating, this time taking the time to stroke his spoiler and admire how it twitched and wiggled beneath his fingers. 

The young Prime hung his helm until it rested against the berth, arching up into the hand on his spoiler. Chuffs of hot air spilled from his vents, his body whirring anxiously. “Because- because I want your spike, Daddy, I want it so bad…”

Rodimus was a menace to functioning mechs everywhere, Megatron decided. Every outcry and arch felt specifically designed to derail every thought. He gave Rodimus another light spank before he teased at his aft port this time, the little hole twitching from the attention. It wasn't their first time doing aft play, but it felt  _ new _ somehow. Rodimus’s squirming somehow had Megatron reminded of a nervous virgin, waiting for their seal to be popped. 

Megatron soothed the inflamed plating of Rodimus’ aft with gentle circles, his fingers teasing out the aching warmth from his armor. “Tell me, boy,” he said, voice low, “Why you're wet.”

Rodimus was trembling with a force Megatron hadn't seen before, even in their more adventurous sessions. There was a faraway glint in his optics that told Megatron he was much closer to subspace than he usually was this early into a scene. This was really getting to him, and it was making Megatron nervous. 

“Yellow.”

“What?” Rodimus gasped out, his hands curling into fists on the berth. He snapped out of his dazed state, cheeks flushed magenta with his arousal. “Shit, you're doing so good…”

“You're okay?” Megatron whispered, his hand moving to Rodimus’s waist instead. This was still a new role for him, and they hadn’t done much negotiation. He had been prepared for an usual session- this was stretching him out into the unknown. “You're enjoying this?”

Rarely did Megatron find himself treading unbroken wilderness as he did now. 

“I am  _ so _ green,” Rodimus hissed, giving Megatron a smack on the side. “Come on, come on come on comeoncomeoncomeon!”

Rodimus’s insistence didn't get him into his role any faster. He cleared his throat and replaced his hands on the young Prime’s aft. He slid two digits between the fat, swollen lips of Rodimus’ valve, teasing and toying with him. “You never answered. I gave you an order, boy.”

“I'm wet because you keep touching me, Daddy,” Rodimus panted as he slipped seamlessly back into his role. He squirmed and twisted on Megatron's lap, leading his dominant to smack his aft again. “I want your spike, please, make me regret fucking anyone else! I promise your cock is all I want, all I'll ever want, please-”

“I'm tired of hearing those filthy organic words from you,” Megatron growled, genuine annoyance seeping into his field. He teased at Rodimus’ aft hole again, his finger slick with lubricant from his valve. His finger slipped in easily, winding its way into his port. “Your port is swallowing me up like a greedy slut. Tell me, which is hungrier, your valve or your port?”

Rodimus couldn't even respond. He only whimpered and vented shallow and quick with every pump into his aft hole. He squeaked as a sharp slap was delivered to his valve. 

“I asked you a question. Which hole should I spike?”

“My valve, Daddy!” Rodimus was vibrating with anticipation. His spoiler wings fluttered as Megatron’s digits shifted from his port to his valve. He shuddered as they teased him open, slick and hot. Megatron’s engines revved at the sight. 

“You're already loosened up,” Megatron growled, his talons curling inside of Rodimus’s valve. “You want my spike, boy? Do you crave it?”

“Please, Daddy, I want it,” Rodimus sniffled, thrusting back on the fingers tickling his insides. “Please, please, please, fuck my valve until my calipers dislocate, I want it so bad, Daddy, teach me not to slut around behind your back!”

Rodimus squeaked as his valve was slapped. He jumped back, body trying to escape his punishment even as Megatron’s servos held him firm against his thighs. Whimpering, Rodimus’s spoiler wings flapped and his frame rattled with the effort it took for him to stay composed. “Please don't spank me anymore, Daddy, please-”

“Quiet, boy.” Megatron stroked his middle finger between the plump lips of Rodimus’s valve, teasing between his folds and playing with the slickness there. “You need to be reminded that I know what's best for you. Every punishment I give you is for your benefit.”

“I can be good!” The young Prime had managed to stabilize onto his hands and knees, still rocking against Megatron’s lap for friction. His neglected spike rutted against Megatron’s lap, leaving him a lovely mess.

“Then count.” Megatron removed his touch before striking down on Rodimus with a firm, open palm. 

Rodimus cried out, thighs trembling. He yelped when Megatron pinched his aft, and crowed, “O-one,” in a shaky voice. 

“You have already taken a bit of punishment, so five should do. However, I will not be gentle.” Megatron clicked his glossa and gave Rodimus’s behind a rub, and then promptly smacked it again. When only a yelp resounded, he waited with his palm hovering above the wiggling aft. “Well?”

“Hng- T-two! Two!” Rodimus exclaimed, pushing back against Megatron’s hand where it lay against his aft, soothing the sore plating. 

“Perhaps we should start again. You don’t seem as if you’re fully engaged in your punishment, Rodimus.” Megatron’s tone dipped down into one of disappointment; one of his greatest weapons against an unruly sub. 

Rodimus actually  _ sobbed. _ His frame trembled and his field flickered with shame as he clenched his fists against Megatron’s knee. “Please, Daddy, I- I’m sorry! I promise I can do it!”

“You’ll take an extra hit,” Megatron hummed, his digits dipping into Rodimus’s dripping valve. “That shouldn’t be a problem, from what I’m feeling down here. Understood, boy?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Rodimus whimpered, whole frame twisting and writhing across Megatron’s lap. It was no use trying to make his submissive lay still- Rodimus simply didn’t have the discipline for it. It was distracting, but of no consequence.

Besides, Megatron thought, there were so many other things Rodimus did so  _ well. _

The third and fourth strikes came down without warning, and Rodimus bit out the count with difficult focus. His consciousness was slipping, his processor hiding behind his barely contained arousal, and Megatron would have it no other way. Rodimus in subspace was a glorious thing to behold; the way he became supple and easily maneuvered, the glaze of his optics as he rose above his inhibitions and allowed Megatron control over every part of him. It was intoxicating.

“Five,” Rodimus wheezed out as Megatron struck him just above his thigh, claws catching the fat lips of his valve. Megatron’s fingers slid between Rodimus’ folds to spread the lubricant around. They came away soaked and trailing fluids; the heat of Rodimus’ cunt was all consuming, burning just as bright as his spark.

“One more, brat,” Megatron hummed. He took his time inspecting Rodimus, pushing the plates of his aft apart just to torture him further. Megatron penetrated Rodimus’ hole with two digits, both of them sinking deep into the liquid heat. Just as Rodimus clenched down on him, Megatron reared back his other servo and struck his submissive for the final count.

Rodimus shrieked upon his overload, fire shooting from the exhaust pipes along his calves. Megatron grunted but didn’t flinch away from the flame, his control tight around his reactions. This wasn’t for him he reminded himself, it was for Rodimus, which meant he had to keep every part of him tuned into making sure Rodimus felt safe and comfortable with him in this new role. That meant not flinching away or reacting in any way that Rodimus could perceive as negative. He could be sensitive to what he might perceive as rejection, and Megatron wanted his first experience with their new roles to be comforting and enjoyable. 

Megatron let loose a deep vent he had been holding, servos resting on Rodimus’s back. He held them there as Rodimus twitched and writhed in his lap consumed with his orgasm. Megatron knew their routine from here. They were far from done, he knew Rodimus would want more. Rodimus would boot back up, they would cuddle some, and then Rodimus would be biting back at the bit to be put in his place.

The first sign of reboot was Rodimus going completely still. Megatron took the cue to rub circles along his submissive’s back plating, then shifting Rodimus up to sit in his lap. To Megatron’s surprise, fat tears streamed down Rodimus’s glittering cheeks, the tracks of many already fallen like rivers. 

_ [Rodimus,]  _ Megatron said over their comm, forcing authority into his voice,  _ [I need you to give me a color.] _

Rodimus blinked. Then he blinked again, and his lips parted, but no noise came out. Over comm, Rodimus sounded helpless,  _ [Green.] _

Megatron relaxed, assured that Rodimus wouldn’t lie to him. His submissive may be incorrigible, but Megatron trusted that Rodimus knew his limits. It wasn’t abnormal for Rodimus to cry during their scenes, the act cathartic for the young Prime. However, it was rarely their first round that brought it out of him.

“You took your punishment well, brat.” Megatron tilted Rodimus’ chin to place a kiss on his lips, feeling the way Rodimus melted against him without resistance. He was always so pliant after punishment. It made Megatron want to do terrible, lewd things to him.

“Daddy?” Rodimus nearly whimpered, his squirming returning full force. His field flexed with mellow, pleased emotions; the calm before his libido reared. Seeking servos curled around loose armor, prodding and petting whatever cables Rodimus could find. He was searching for purchase, for somewhere to lock himself tight against.

“You did well. You looked exquisite, even.” Megatron’s carefully chosen words had the intended reaction. The praise elicited arcs of charge over Rodimus’ thighs, where his charge was rapidly recovering. Rodimus was never satisfied with just one overload, their scenes often expanded until the young prime was near dry of fuel. There had been times in their early relationship where Rodimus had needed infusions after intense scenes, before Megatron had taken the habit of forcing coolant and fuel into him.

Speaking of which, Megatron produced some coolant from his subspace. He held Rodimus still against him, not allowing his sub to take the cub from him as he tilted it. Rodimus dutifully allowed Megatron to feed him, relaxing into the familiar act. As the cube was drained Rodimus’ writhing began anew.

“‘M I good?” Rodimus asked, sounding meek. It was a rare sound, one of vulnerability that usually took hours to bring out of him. Megatron shivered with the power he held over Rodimus; intoxicating as it was, he needed to be precise. New scenes, especially powerful ones like their current situation, needed to be handled with care. 

“Very good,” Megatron assured, stroking over Rodimus’ spoiler wings as a treat. He tucked the mostly empty coolant cube back into his subspace. He used a servo to tilt Rodimus’ face up, laying another kiss on his lip components. “You’re as good a boy as I could ask for. You just need direction, my dear.”

“Thank you, Daddy.” Rodimus was grinding down against Megatron’s still closed panel. He nuzzled up under Megatron’s jaw, melting against his hot chassis. Rodimus’ servo teased along the buttons of Megatron’s front panel, fondling the vent right above his abdomen. “Still want you.”

“Say please,” Megatron growled, giving Rodimus’ thigh a gentle smack. He watched as Rodimus whined and flopped back against his chest, lamenting the demands of his dominant. Megatron gave him another slap, across his valve this time. He was rewarded with a delightful squeal.

“Pleeeease, Daddy?” Rodimus huffed, looking as if the word burned him. He pouted against Megatron’s neck, a dangerous weapon all on its own. Megatron couldn’t help but want to give the prime whatever he wanted when he looked pitiful enough. “Want your spike.”

“Where?” Megatron dipped his claws between Rodimus’ swollen valve pleats, stroking lubricant over his node. The anterior sensor was glowing bright against Megatron’s attentive servo, charge zapping through the conductive fluids. Megatron rubbed slow, torturous circled around his submissive’s node and savored the way that Rodimus jerked against his touch. 

Rodimus groaned, sounding exasperated with all the hoops he had to jump through. It tickled Megatron’s spark in a pleasant way to see him wrinkle his nose and kick his legs with impunity at the question. “Please spike my valve, Daddy,” he said, though it came out with disobedience bordering every glyph. Megatron’s engine revved with promise. “Aren’t I good? I did everything you wanted, just how you like it!”

“Don’t get cheeky,” Megatron warned, though he maneuvered Rodimus with careful nudges, servos groping at open seams and textured armor. He leaned back on one servo as his modesty plating folded aside, his free hand stroking the spike that rose between them. It was intimidating, engorged with red biolights glowing against Rodimus’ abdomen. He rolled his hip joints, spike rubbing pre-fluid against the young prime’s exposed belly. “Show your daddy’s spike proper appreciation, brat.”

Rodimus puffed out his cheeks, as if to prove a point of some kind. Megatron found it best to ignore any goading to move the scene along- otherwise he would be punishing Rodimus into next vorn and they would never get to the spiking.

Regardless of his boundary pushing, Rodimus took both his spike and Megatron’s into both hands, grinding them together to elicit soft, matching moans. Rodimus pressed his weight into his knees, using one servo to push Megatron’s cord lower, until it bumped against the rim of his aching valve. Megatron penetrated him slow, resting entirely in Rodimus’ control. The prime whined as he was stretched by his dominant’s intimidating girth, but didn’t stop until Megatron was seated fully inside him. 

Moaning, Megatron buried his face into Rodimus’s neck cables, finding a thick one to chew one as he ground himself deeper against his submissive’s ceiling node. Every rippling sensation had him bucking up into Rodimus like a cheap interface aid, chasing his own pleasure above all else. 

Rodimus whined as Megatron controlled their pace even with him on top. He bounced on the spike splitting him open, his valve clenching on alternate thrusts. Every part of Rodimus narrowed down to his slick channel and the way it swallowed Megatron’s turgid cord, stretching him apart in the most tantalizing ways. He came apart on top of Megatron, howling out his pleasure as long deprived sensor rings onlined deep in his valve. 

Having had enough of allowing Rodimus control over their pace, Megatron tossed his submissive down onto the berth, face down, and re-entered Rodimus’ sopping cunt with a low growl. His pace turned brutal as he put his weight into his hips, watching how Rodimus’ optics flared with barely contained energy. 

Megatron bared his fangs, snarling against Rodimus’ spoiler before he bit down on the edge of a wing. His pelvic armor clanged messily against his submissive’s ass, leaving streaks of gray paint where it couldn’t be mistaken as anything other than the marks of a lover. Megatron growled against the hinges of Rodimus’ spoiler wings, giving him another chomp for good measure. 

“What are you, boy?” Megatron’s voice was threatening, giving Rodimus that extra edge of excitement amid danger. Megatron’s aggressive thrusts had Rodimus seeing stars with every punctuated hit to his ceiling node. 

“A toy!” Rodimus cried out, the glyphs gushing out of him on rote. This was a line of questioning that frequented their scenes, one that was sure to bring them both to overload.

“Good,” Megatron snarled against Rodimus’ tender throat. He angled his hips just so, in order to strike a new set of node clusters, leaving Rodimus nothing but to squeal and shriek in his tormented pleasure. “That’s a good boy. Who’s toy are you?”

“Yours, Daddy! All yours!” Tears were leaking down Rodimus’ cheeks once more, dripping down onto the bed with wayward sparks. The prime’s spoiler wings flapped, a desperate attempt to get away from the intense sensation Megatron hammered him with. “Please please please, it’s too much-“

“You know what to tell me,” Megatron snapped back, his powerful thrusting pushing Rodimus up the berth slab. Megatron bit his submissive’s spoiler again, enjoying the little dents he left there. “I know you’re not going to use your colors. You’re enjoying this too much, you little harlot.”

Rodimus kicked up at Megatron, his field drowning him in his submission and his humiliation. Megatron had broken him down to nothing but a needy pet with only the desires to lash out or receive his pleasure.

Megatron caught Rodimus’ legs under his knees, adjusting himself so he was properly pinning the young prime. He caught his submissive’s arms next, wildly striking out for anything they could do damage to. Megatron held Rodimus’ wrists in one hand as he fucked him with ruthless power, leaving Rodimus helpless beneath him.

Rodimus was sobbing quietly into the berth, frame jerking back against every thrust. His field went lax against his frame as he was overpowered, having no choice but to take the pounding Megatron inflicted on him. The illusion of helplessness was exactly what Rodimus needed to burst into overload.

“I don’t remember giving you permission to come,” Megatron hissed against the young prime’s audial. He bit at the tip of his fin, pressing Rodimus deeper into the berth as he battered his soaking valve. Every thrust was punctuated with a wet squelch, even more fluids messing the sticky space between their arrays. Rodimus’ hypersensitive spike rubbed against the berth, the piercing in the head conducting charge right back into his equipment. “What sort of toy is finished playing before their owner?”

“Didn’t-“ Rodimus’ engines whined as he arched against Megatron, flames licking from his cooling pipes at Megatron’s calves. “D-didn’t give me permission the first time.”

“You’re right.” Megatron’s growling engine softened to a purr, his thrusts slowing to a languid pace. He pushed in deep then, grinding hard against Rodimus’ ceiling node until the prime’s optics fritzed from the sensational feedback. “I suppose we didn’t talk about it, which means your overloads are free tonight. Do you like that, brat?”

Megatron watched Rodimus’ hazey optics go wide as the question sunk into him. It gave him insight into how Rodimus was processing his limits, and to gauge just how close he was to another overload. It was always interesting to see if Rodimus would choose restraint. Rodimus whined, jaw hanging open and glossa lolling out of his intake without inhibition. He licked his lips as he turned his helm to look at Megatron with drunken abandon.

“I want as many as I can have.”

“Ask nicely,” Megatron shot back, punctuating his glyphs with a slap to Rodimus’ swollen aft. He grunted as he forced the prime to howl with every heated thrust, the braids of his spike tearing Rodimus up in the best way. “I should have known you wouldn’t want to give me your overloads.”

“Please, please, I want to cum a lot, Daddy!” Rodimus exclaimed, his optics flickering with static. He clawed at the berth with every thrust that pushed him higher up the slab, helpless to anything Megatron chose to do to him. 

“Greedy thing,” Megatron crooned, his palm sliding along the heated panel of Rodimus’ fender and stroking down to his thigh. “I suppose if I’m going to give them to you freely that I should give you as many as you can handle.”

Rodimus opened his mouth to respond, but before his vocalizer could manifest his glyphs Megatron shoved his head down onto the berth. He held Rodimus there with patient firmness as his pace turned rampant, lighting up sensors with friction and continual charge. Rodimus screamed into the berth as his crest was gripping with crushing strength, pulling him until his body was arched painfully backwards. Megatron kept Rodimus there, shrieking into another overload as his dominant pistoned away at him.

“That’s it, boy,” Megatron growled close behind him, sharp dentae catching the edge of his fin. Megatron’s voice was ragged and husky in a way that only happened when he was holding back an overload. Still he was relentless, nailing Rodimus’ ceiling node every time. “Again. Cum for me like a good fucktoy.”

Rodimus’ entire frame seized and his vocalizer began to click in between screams. The prime’s field was chaotic, bubbling like an oil spill with his current orgasm prolonged by Megatron’s ruthless pace. Rodimus felt as if every part of him were burning. His insides were on fire as he sobbed out static laced screams, his valve at its most sensitive while Megatron fucked him without restraint. After barely reaching the ground from his earlier overload, Rodimus’ charge crested again.

His charge hovered at the edge, tipping over and stumbling every time Megatron dragged his spike out of Rodimus’ clenching channel. Wave after wave of overload came over him, weak at first and then stronger as they lapped at Rodimus’ spark. He was floating, he realized, so deep in really feeling everything that was happening to him that he had forgotten everything else. Here, he was Megatron’s fucktoy wanting for nothing. There was nothing else to worry about but the game he was playing with his dominant.

Megatron’s engine roared as Rodimus babbled out wayward pleas and sobs for mercy. He had successfully broken his submissive into subspace; Megatron recognized the way Rodimus spoke openly and without shame of himself, the way his begging turned desperate. 

“Fuck- please, please,” Rodimus choked out, his knee joints locking as Megatron pinned him harder. “Fuck me, Daddy, I’m good, I promise, I promise you can do anything you want to me!”

“Too late for that,” Megatron snarled. He drove Rodimus harder into the berth, gripping his waist hard enough to dent as he pulled the prime all the way down to the root of his cord. “I’ve already got everything you can offer. Now enjoy my spike while I use you, brat.”

Rodimus wasn’t given a choice to disobey. His vocalizer cut out part way through his screaming as Megatron became reacquainted with his ceiling nodes. His charge had settled for only a moment before it was climbing again. Rodimus rocked back on Megatron’s hard rhythm and into a curtain of white hot bliss that crawled through his lines and set his spark ablaze. He coasted in the light of ecstasy, losing himself to it.

* * *

Rodimus only realized he had undergone his typical end of scene reboot when he awoke to one of Megatron’s fancy, heavy tarps wrapped around his entire frame. It was secure, but tight. He squirmed to make his displeasure known, his optics barely starting their boot up sequence.

The fuzzy shape of Megatron came into view, one hand resting on Rodimus’ bundled waist where he sat upright beside him. His field was relaxed and pleased. Rodimus pouted when he realized that meant he had missed his dominant’s overload. 

“No fair,” Rodimus croaked, scrunching his derma and olfactory. “Did you cum in me?”

“Where else could I have spilled, the way you begged me,” Megatron teased as he planted a kiss on Rodimus’ helm crest. “Yes. Because I had an idea for aftercare.”

“Is it aftercare now?” Rodimus asked, sounding genuine in his questioning. He looked up at Megatron with round optics, the sight of him ridiculous in his tarp swaddle. 

Regardless of how silly Rodimus looked, Megatron nodded. “Yes, Rodimus. It’s time for aftercare.”

“Great.” Rodimus flipped the tarp off his frame, his messy array still open to the air. Rodimus spread his thighs with an inviting tilt, grinning with lazy expectation to Megatron. “Gonna give my dirty cunt a good clean?”

Rodimus delighted in the face of contempt Megatron made. 

“I wish you would stop with that disgusting human slang,” Megatton huffed without strength as he came to kneel between Rodimus’ legs. There was a taboo-esque factor to the human words, but Megatron could only handle it sprinkled throughout their play lest he squirm under his armor. It was an ongoing effort to get him comfortable with it.

Regardless of his complaints Megatron lowered himself to Rodimus’ heated valve, frothing with transfluid and lubricant. Megatron licked around his rim, pushing the swollen pleats aside as he stroked Rodimus’ sore components with his glossa. There was no balk at cleaning the prime of his fluids- Megatron even delighted in it. He sucked the engorged lips of Rodimus’ valve into his intake, his dangerous looking dentae only leaving small nibbles in his wake.

Rodimus gave a hearty moan, purring as he gripped Megatron’s helmet and pressed his valve down onto his dominant’s face. His node rubbed up against Megatron’s nasal ridge, purring with every strong wave of stimulation. After having his valve wrecked by Megatron’s brutal fucking it was nice to have something sweet and soft to bring him down. 

The overload that rose up in Rodimus’ chassis was less intense, much softer against his sensors. Megatron’s broad strokes along his inner valve pleats were pushing him higher, closer to the wash of orgasm. 

Thrusting his tongue up into Rodimus, Megatron buried his entire faceplate into the prime, tongue fucking him as deep as he could reach. Creamy mixtures of transfluid and Rodimus’ thick lubricants ran down Megatron’s chin until Rodimus was moaning low, hips tilting down to rub his anterior node against Megatron’s olfactory. 

Rodimus overloaded without fanfare. His frame lay heaving on the slab with Megatron’s face still nuzzles between the lips of his valve. He sighed and hooked a knee over Megatron’s shoulder pauldron, kicking his back just enough to let him know to back off. When Megatron came up, face slick with fluids, Rodimus felt another pulse of arousal in his array. 

Rodimus accepted the messy kiss eagerly, moaning into Megatron’s full mouth. Their combined fluids changed intakes, adding their oral lubricant to the salty mix. Rodimus shuddered at the taste, slipping just a little deeper than he already was. It was a treat to taste Megatron after it had already been inside him.

“Good?” Megatron hummed, toying with the hinge of Rodimus’ spoiler. He kissed along the young prime’s throat cables, nipping just hard enough to keep Rodimus’ attention on him. 

“Very good,” Rodimus sighed, his frame relaxing into a well-sated puddle. Even so, he turned into his stomach, abruptly pushing Megatron away. “Less talky, more massagey.”

“Incorrigible,” Megatron laughed. Despite his indignation, he leaned down to bite at the cooling pipe trailing up Rodimus’ calve. His servos were already thumbing between tense armor platelets, working on teasing the cables under them into placation. 

“You like me this way,” Rodimus said, sounding very matter-of-fact about it. 

Megatron’s laugh petered off into a chuckle as he smoothed over Rodimus’ thick leg armor, leaning down to kiss the base of his spinal strut. “You’re right, I think I do.”


End file.
